THE SERAPHIM WAR revised
by Nightshade22
Summary: Constantine faces the greatest war of them all...Woe to the inhabiters of the earth and of the sea! for the devil is to come down unto you, having great wrath, because he knoweth that he hath but a short time.Revelation 12
1. Chapter 1

Carmen stared out the bus window, vaguely reading the neon signs that rushed past in a blur of color.

She watched as her own reflection flashed periodically at darkened intervals, her hair in a messy ponytail, green eyes luminous, accented by the heavy eyeliner around them.

She must look a state, she thought bitterly, gingerly trying to tuck a few strands of her raven hair behind her ear.

The sky outside was a deep purple and skeleton trees reached out their limbs to the cold december heavens.

Fiona Apple screamed in her ear from her headphones, a burst of melancholy andcliché.

She popped another pink bubble of gum from between her lips.

Somewhere on the bus an old man with white cataract eyes was murmuring broken phrases to himself, a faded sign around his neck, THE END IS NIGH, it read simply, adding salt to the wound of the obvious.

She felt tired and drowsy from the entire day of sitting through Mrs. Melnicks divine theology class, and all that seemed right and good to her in the world was the promising warmth of her bed and the idea of disappearing under heavy blankets.

The bus pulled next to a stop and people came and went, she was aware of a man in a heavy black trench coat take the seat beside her, despite the numerous other empty ones available.

Well, actually there seemed to be no people in the bus besides...

She scooted over closer to the window and held her bag to her chest. She was overwhelmed by the smell of cigarettes and oldspice and noticed the mans large hand gripping the back of the seat before him, calloused and bandaged in some places.

She tapped her foot impatiently as the bus finally got on its way again, rattling beneath her feet. She peeked behind her shoulder at the oddly empty bus and caught the old man with the sign staring right at her with his...eyes?

Could he see? She thought, looking away quickly.

Suddenly the song on her player stopped and she cursed, pulling it out of her jacket. The numbers were going haywire and then it went blank.

"What the-" She said aloud, making the man beside her glance warily at her. He looked down at her player then shifted in his seat, jamming his fingers in the belt of his pants.

"Oh ew!" she panicked, reaching desperately into her bag for her can of mase.

She watched as he pulled out a long clear vial out of his pants.

"Holy water?" she thought, perplexed.

She watched him shake it up abit and uncork the gourd with a pop, stopping the liquid from spilling with his thumb.

"Great, im surrounded by religious psychos." she murmured bitterly. She tried standing up but yelped in pain as she felt a rough hand grab her wrist and yank her back down on her seat.

She started to scream when suddenly the bus lurched forward in a burst of speed and she gripped the edge of her seat, her bag falling to the floor.

"Weve got two minutes." She heard the man say cooly, his eyes fixed on the old guy behind them. She looked back and watched the old geezer rise slowly, and started to make his way towards them with not so much as a stumble as the bus rocked to and fro.

The man in the trench turned to look at her and gave her a small wink as he took a cigarette out of his pocket and brought it to his lips, lighting it expertly in one motion.

Then he stood up, blocking her from the old man with his frame, almost posessively.

" Amanos. your looking swell."

The old man tilted his head to the side and gazed at the man in the trench with his milk-white eyes.

"Constantine." The old man hissed, stopping a few feet before them, Carmen held onto the back of a seat, her legs shaking.

"Nice gettup. What are you doing commuting?"

Amanos flicked out his tongue angrily.

"Step away we dont want you."

Constantine nodded in understanding and gestured to Carmen with his thumb.

"You know, the law states that you have to have parental consent to take an underaged girl for a drive this late at night."

Carmen furrowed her brow.

"Whats going on?" She cried in exasperation.

The old man turned his horrid gaze at her and spread his lips, an attempt at a sneer showing off bad teeth, stubs in his gums.

"Oh my beautiful one," he rasped," The ones of light will be so pleased...so very pleased with you."

Constantine rolled his eyes.

"Remember Amanos, its not only a felony, its a sin. You sick fuck."

And with that he threw the contents of the vial in the old mans face. The old mans skin erupted in boils and hissed as if he was thrown acid instead of water. He clawed at his visage, falling down screaming.

Constantine steadied himself and jabbed his foot in the mans throat.

"Who sent you Amanos." he growled.

Amanos screamed louder.

"WHO?" Constantine pressed on.

"...each had six wings, with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two...he flew."

Constantine blinked, he couldnt believe his ears. He pulled out his gun from his back pocket and shot the old man. In a rise of hellfire the old man disintegrated into dust.

The bus stopped abruptly, tires screaching and burning marks into the street, there were honks and screaming, the sound of sirens filled the air.

Carmen stood up shakily and stared at the back of the man in front of her.

"Is it over." She whispered in a daze.

Constantine shook his head.

"Far from it." he replied bitterly.

Somewhere in the street outside a man pulled up the hood of his jacket and smiled at the image of Carmen in the bus window.

"Holy, holy, holy is the lord god Almighty," the man said softly to himself, "Who was and is and is to come."

And with a small chuckle he walked back into the shadows, humming disembodied words into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

John Constantine woke from a fitfull sleep, his bare chest covered in a film of sweat. Glancing at the thrift store clock by his bed, he made the time out to be about mid afternoon. The room was heavy with heat, the grimy windows letting in the blaze of afternoon sun, hitting his head with dull blows. He kneaded his forehead with his thumb feeling the start of a small migrane.

He lifted himself off of his small cot, pushing aside the flimsy white blanket till he sat with his head in his hands. Outside the muffled sounds of the city reverbrated through the room and he squeezed his eyes shut then opened them again watching a trickle of sweat drip from his brow and splatter to the floor.

Combing a hand through his hair he made his way to the kitchen, turning on the tap, bending over and drinking it as it rushed out in a cool spray. Splashing some on his face, Constantine remembered the vague images from his dreams. There was a blinding light, and a song...what were the words? He had known them, heard them before. And then there was the unmistakable sound, a roar...of a thousand beating wings...

"Hey pass me some of that peanut butter you got by the bowls over there will ya."

Constantine spun around, one hand reaching instinctively for something sharp, which in his case was a tiny plastic spork from one of his take out nights alone.

"Oh yeah ok. Whatchu gonna do? Spork me to death? hahaha. Death, hahaha..."

He watched as the lithe girl clad all in black collapsed in a fit of her own humor, bent over laughing, one hand holding a plate of sliced bread. Constantine narrowed his eyes at her. He knew who she was.

"What are you doing here? Which one sent you to take me?" He growled menacingly, dropping the spork on the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

The girl before him didnt look a day over fifteen, although he knew she was older than that...much, much older. Perhaps older than time itself. It wouldve amused him that this ancient one was standing over sliced bread and laughing at spork jokes, but she was the angel of death and he didnt much care for that fact.

"Oh relax," she said in between subsiding giggles, "I was on my way up to the fifth, some poet hung himself in his closet, when i thought hey. Id just drop by for a bit and have a snack."

She walked up to him and gave him a huge smile before reaching behind and stealing the jar of peanut butter. She walked back and started to casually spread it on her sliced bread.

"Ok...you have good work morals." Constantine mocked, the brief contact of her skin with his sending a wave of clammy dread through his body. He shivered despite the heat.

"Oh its nothing really. Ill be just a minute. He can stand another couple. Besides, the stairs just winded me abit back there. You guys should really install an elevator."

"Its an old building." Constantine reminded her. She glanced up, her dull grey eyes piercing through his and he looked away quickly. She bit into her sandwich and made a face.

"Hey...this things expired." she said before falling again into peals of laughter.

"Well it has been lying around for a year...or two."

She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and then stared at him again.

"Im hearing rumors John. Reaaalllyyyyy fucked up ones." She said seriously, playing with the large pendant on her neck. The egyptian symbol of life, the ankh, on the angel of death. How fitting. Constantine thought bitterly.

"Yeah well dont believe in everything you hear." Constantine interjected quickly, brushing past her into the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

"You know what will happen if these rumors are true dont you?" She called out from behind the door.

Constantine sat on the edge of the tub and fished around his pockets for a cigarette.

"If this happens John...you cant stop it. No one can. If this happens...then its all over."

Constantine fought the urge to go out and rummage in his drawers for the pack he knew he had somewhere.

"And the deal with you and that girl the other night..."

Constantine gave in and went out. She followed him as he made his way to his room.

"Yeah well how did you know about that?"

She heard her scoff.

"I was there John. Had to. There was a small crash a couple of cars behind you. A mother and her baby..."

Constantine stopped and looked at her. Her eyes betrayed no emotion but obviously raked his for a trace. He knew her game.

"Well too bad." He said looking again for his pack. The migrane resonated in his head.

"Huh. I know who she is John. But theyll find her sooner or later. Then that will be it."

He grabbed a small crucifix he found lying under his sock drawer and threw it at her. But she had gone. Constantine fell to his knees and took out the pack he had found wedged under his collection of matchboxes. He lit it and closed his eyes. The beating of a thousand wings...the beating of a thousand fucking wings...fear crept in slowly, but surely, and for the first time in ages, he actually felt it seep into his bones.

He was extremely and utterly afraid.


End file.
